Copulate
by Ordinary Olivia
Summary: When a mysterious, lust-filled essence drifts upon the werewolves of Derek's pack, Stiles and Derek come together to try to stop and contain this physical craving and sensation.
1. Chapter 1

"So you're saying that you've been abnormally horny lately and constantly having sex with Allison lately?" Stiles Stilinsky said, his hands gripping more tightly onto the steering wheel of his worn out, blue Jeep.

"No! Well, yes, about both parts, but it's not just about the sex, Stiles. It's been so much more. It's like we have some kind of romantic connection. I can actually feel everything she's feeling when we... you know. Not just her physical reactions, which is nice, but emotionally too." Scott McCall finished nervously, looking at Stiles.

"Do you think it's one of your weird, new wolf powers?" Stiles asked, looking over at Scott uncertainly before staring back towards the road. It just sounded like Scott was having really good sex, to him. He let out a huff and drummed his fingers along the wheel.

"Maybe. I'm honestly not even sure. It was never like that before, and last night, everything was just more..."

"More what?" Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow.

"More real. Everything felt magnified and way more intense."

Stiles rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. "Lucky you."

The rest of the ride went on in an awkward silence with the occasional change of the radio station and small talk. The gears in Stiles' mind were spinning, as he tried to figure out what the cause was for this. Maybe Scott's wolf powers were beginning to deepen and become more profound? Now that he was certain and labelled him an alpha, maybe his abilities were developing, and maybe this was one of them.

The Jeep pulled up in front of Derek's old, red bricked apartment and the two climbed out of the car. They walked up towards the door, rang the bell and Derek let them in. They climbed up the stairs and reached his apartment door, to find it unlocked. Stiles cocked his head inwards and stared around at the familiarity of the classic, mod apartment.

It was the same as it had normally been the last time he had seen it. It was very minimal with dark furniture and off-white accessories. It smelled like sawdust from the recent construction of the apartment and Stiles let out a sneeze in response. It was quiet, as usual, except for the quiet and occasional grunt in the background.

Stiles turned his head to look at Scott, who was already climbing the stairs towards his bedroom. Alarmed and confused, he let out his hand and caught Scott on the shoulder.

"Scott, wait..." He whispered.

Scott ground his teeth together and strained his ears, trying to hear into the bedroom. "I think he's in trouble."

Stiles shook his head quickly and looked at the peak in the door to Derek's bedroom. "Nope, not in trouble. I think he's having a fun time and really enjoying himself, if you get my lingo."

The color drained from his face and an embarrassed look crept onto him. He turned away quickly took in a deep breath, about to head down the stairs. Before he even took a step, the door flung open. Stiles stared in shock and slight awe as he saw Derek in nothing but long, black briefs. He turned away, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment.

"What the _hell_ are you two doing here?" Derek's eyes narrowed with a profound angered that definitely labelled him as a Hale. His dark, bushy eyebrows creased together angrily and he stared at the two.

"Well, we just, we just..." stammered Scott, looking to Stiles for answers.

Derek stared, unapprovingly, crossing his arms over his broad, muscled chest.

"We had a question for you." Stiles said steadily, avoiding eye contact with the two boys. He licked his lips nervously and tapped his foot, a nervous habit he had. "I think it's already been answered though."

Stiles turned his head to finally look at Derek, who was hot and red in the face. He was perspiring slightly and his body glistened profoundly. His chest was deeply curved with muscles and it only got more mouth-watering as Stiles kept looking down his body. He had deep, muscled pecks with hard, dark nipples. His abs were rock-hard and there were a set of four on each side, that lead down to the edge of his briefs, where a dark happy trail sat in the middle of his v-lines.

Stiles felt Derek staring while he observed him and nervously looked away.

"Give me a minute." Derek said nonchalantly, before he disappeared back into his room.

*** * * * ***  
Derek emerged from his room multiple minutes later, dressed in his usual dark and mysterious attire. He wore black jeans and a dark gray t-shirt, which fitted perfectly around his toned, muscled arms, and was the same color as his briefs, Stiles remarked. He strode into the room and looked directly at Scott.

"You feel it too."

"Feel 'it'? I mean, I guess... I don't really know what it is though and it's been really weird with Allison and stuff. I mean, I can actually, like, _feel_ her..." Scott tried to explain brokenly, his face flushing hot with embarrassment.

"Is this some weird wolf thing?" Stiles asked, cocking an eyebrow up.

Derek looked directly at Stiles with his dark, chocolate brown eyes and smirked. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that."

He strode over towards his dark brown leather couches and took a seat, putting his hands on his knees and leaning over slightly, so that he could look at the other seated boys. "It's very rare, and only seems to happen every ten years or so. I remember it happen when I was around your age, maybe even a year or two younger. Everything was magnified to an intense, pleasurable desire. I didn't just crave women. I wanted to mate. It didn't matter with what."

"So you're like some crazy, horny, bisexual werewolf? Why?" Stiles asked.

Derek spoke in a cool, calm voice, trying not to get too worked up. "I'm not bisexual. It's much different than that. It's like when wolves, or any animal in particular, have a mating season. They get so worked up and excited that they will bone anything. It's not about the gender, it's about the sexual craving and desire, a lust so intense that it will drive you sex-crazed. You become so hungry to mate it would happen with anyone or anything. It's like wolves, all they want is to produce a new batch of pups to continue the growth of the pack."

"Mating season." Scott whispered in comprehension. "Allison and I got into an argument one time, because I hadn't brought a, um, condom. I didn't know why, because I knew that we were going to have sex, and I had bought a full box the week before. It's like I purposely didn't want to use a condom. Like I..." He stopped, trying to recalculate his thoughts.

"You wanted to impregnate her." Stiles said.

"Exactly." Derek nodded. "It's not about what or who it is. It's not about sexuality, gender or status. It's the pure desire to want to mate and breed. Kind of annoying actually."

"So in there, you were...?" Stiles trailed off, but everyone knew the ending to the question.

"It doesn't matter. Either way, if werewolves don't do it multiple times on a daily basis and don't have a mate, they'll find victims to mate with. It could be anyone. It's almost like we werewolves give off an aura when we are aroused that seduces our victims into having sex with us."

Scott took in a sharp breath and placed his face into his hands. "This is crazy."

"What? Why? It gives you a perfectly good reason to constantly bone chicks!" Stiles explained, his hands moving drastically.

"Stiles! It's not about that! I don't want to impregnate my girlfriend!" Scott shouted, embarrassed and confused.

Derek straightened his posture and looked over at Scott. "It's even worst for alphas, unfortunately. Because they're normally the providers for the pack, their lust multiplies even more than a regular pack member because they wish to provide more members of the pack. Sometimes it's hard to control. I suggest you keep your distance from Allison and you know... at home."

"I don't know how I'm going to do that." Scott ran his fingers through his hair, then scratched the back of his head.

"You'll figure it out, you've done it before."


	2. Chapter 2

"Derek wanted to see you." Scott said, closing his locker with an audible thud.

Stiles cocked one of his eyebrows up, crossing his arms over his chest. He took in a deep breath and then exhaled, feeling his shoulders tense with nervousness.

From his mouth barely came a whisper. "Why?"

Scott shrugged, fondling with his school bag strap on his shoulder before looking back up at Stiles, like it was no big deal. "Don't know. I think it had something to do with mating season and research stuff."

"Huh," Stiles shrugged, "That's so unlike Derek to ask for help."

Scott let a huff of air escape his lips, his eyes wandering down the empty hallways, which appeared like he was hunting for another victim. His hands clenched around a chemistry textbook under his arm as he stifled a shiver.

Stiles turned his head towards him, his eyebrows furrowing together out of worry.

"Are you okay?" He asked, leaning into Scott's side.

Stiles nearly jumped back out of instinct. Scott's body was bristling and blazing with heat, like an oven. His skin almost vibrated and it felt as if he was shaking violently, except he was standing perfect still. His eyes darted towards Stiles, pupils dilating.

"Psh, yeah. Of course. Why?"

"You're just, like, really hot," Stiles said, "I mean, not like, you know. Your temperature."

Stiles' cheeks went red, flustered, and he turned to look down the hallway, where Allison was giddily bounding over towards Scott. His eyes, almost instantaneously, darted directly onto her, and he strode towards her with such power, she stopped in her tracks. Stiles stared curiously, slowly following behind him.

"Hey, Scott, I—" She began.

"Do you want to get out of here? Like now?" He said, wrapping his arms around her waist.

He tugged her petite body inwards, so her breasts were pressed tightly against his lean, muscled chest and the space between the two of them was compromised. Her eyes darted between him and Stiles and a look of embarrassment flooded over her face.

"Um, Scott, we have chemistry now. Can't you wait another two periods?" She whined.

His skin almost bristled with eagerness and lust radiated off of his skin. Even Stiles could feel the tense sexual eagerness that was rippling off of Scott, despite him being a few meters away.

"No. Now."

He let his hands run down her arms and her eyes widened, filling with an amorous affection that almost seemed mesmerizing and manipulating.

"Okay," she breathed, letting butterfly kisses softly caress Scott's lips.

With a fluid notion, Scott grabbed onto Allison's legs, shifting her around so she sat on his hips, in a piggyback position. He grasped her thighs tightly and playfully, and carried off down the hallway to the nearest school exit. Stiles stared, mouth slightly open, as he watched the two lust-filled teenagers disappear down the corridor.

Stiles let his knuckles rap against the metal doors of the entrance to Derek's loft, hesitantly taking a step backwards as he waited for an answer.

So many thoughts rushed through his mind. Why did Derek need to talk to him? He was so independent and had so many other werewolf communications, why would he need a human's help, who has absolutely no experience in the supernatural, except for his best friend who happened to become a werewolf? He clenched his jaw, first putting his hands in his pockets and decided they would become too sweaty there, and then pulled them out.

His thoughts were interrupted by the metallic wrench of the door being pulled backwards, causing Stiles to cringe upon looking at Derek. He seemed more coiffed that usual, hair slicked back and stubble nonexistent. He seemed so much younger. Stiles stared at him for a moment, admiring his dark denim jeans and plain back v-neck t-shirt, before staring back up at him.

Derek looked uncomfortable. "Are you checking me out?"

Stiles face flushed red, anger flooding over him that made his voice rise. "No! I… You look different."

"I feel different," He clenched his jaw and his hands tightened into fists at his side. Stiles wondered if he had come here for a fight.

Stiles shifted in place uncomfortably. "Is it because of this mating season crap?"

Derek's eyes wondered over Stiles in a peculiar manner, almost as if he was deciding whether or not he was going to take a bite out of him. He eyes snapped back up at his face as soon as he took into recollection that Stiles was watching him as well. Their eyes locked and Stiles could feel the color rising in his cheeks, causing him to look away sheepishly.

"Probably. Come inside."

He took a step back, allowing Stiles to enter into his apartment, which seemed much cleaner and was now littered with a couch to match the table.

"You decorated," Stiles grinned at his own sarcastic comment.

Derek didn't respond, pacing towards the large window that looked over the town. He let his hands rest on the edge of the windowsill. Stiles curiously strode towards the window as well, glancing hesitantly, before stopping a few meters away.

"So, uh, why am I here exactly?" Stiles asked, his eyebrows furrowing together.

Derek's head turned towards him, his pupils expanding so widely, his eyes appeared to be black. He seemed to stare at him with some sort of intent, like he knew something and expected Stiles to know it too. Stiles could feel the base of his fingernails pressing into the fleshy skin of his palm. He was so nervous.

"You mean, you don't know?"

Stiles shrugged a bit, balancing his weight on his other foot. "Well, Scott told me you wanted me here for research and stuff, on the whole mating season thing and—"

Derek advanced him, so quick that Stiles breath was knocked out of him as his back slammed against the brick wall behind him. He cringed and stared at Derek, so close to him he felt radically uncomfortable.

"You don't feel it too?" Derek almost growled, his eyes desperately trying to hide an emotion, causing Stiles to grit his teeth together.

"Feel what?"

Derek's teeth bristled and he turned away from Stiles quickly. He ran his eyes over Derek's broad and muscled shoulder, watching his hands clench into fists at his sides and his posture hunch over. He could feel himself sweating, growing more and more nervous. What the hell was Derek talking about?

He turned around abruptly, staring at Stiles, so close to him that they were inches away. He was taller than Stiles, making him seem puny and inferior. Stiles understood and felt that, but he felt something else too.

Derek's hands came up and he placed them on the wall, on the sides of Stiles, so he was trapped between his arms. Stiles winced at the intense heat that seemed to be vibrating off of Derek's body, and his eyes widened.

"What are you doing?" Stiles stammered, looking from side to side, for some way to escape, some way to get out.

Derek growled. "Look at me, Stiles."

He did. He looked at him hard, admiring the striking curve of his jaw that seemed to pierce the air around him, the thin bridge of his nose that separated his two eyes, which ranged from gray to hazel based on the murky weather. He always seemed to have some form of stubble, and Stiles imagined for a moment that his chest would be like that, a dark form of hair covering it, in the masculine way that did not cover his own chest.

Stiles paused. Why was he thinking about Derek half naked? It felt like the longer he stared at him, the more he become affiliated with his physical appearances, especially his eyes which now were flooded with emotions, emotions that Stiles almost felt pulse through his own body as he felt Derek's forearms brush over the thin material of his t-shirt.

Stiles swallowed hard, looking at Derek's full lips, which were pursed. He drew his head back quickly, taking in deep, panicked breaths.

"Do you see what you're doing to me, Stiles?" His jaw clench and he took half a step towards Stiles, so that there was only the briefest space between them, their face separated by inches.

Stiles' eyes expanded gravely, feeling the firm bulge in Derek's pants against the side of his left leg. He felt his cheeks go red and stared down, feeling as though he was paralyzed, but he knew that paralysis was not it. Stiles didn't want to move, or at least that's what his body was telling him.

"Do you?" Derek growled, but not in a menacing way. It was low and seductive, and he leaned in so his lips brushed just against his ear, causing a shiver of heat to run up and down Stiles' body.

A voice, deeply familiar with a cocky edge sounded from the right.

"Did you two forget that I lived here too?"

Stiles head turned towards the side, and remarked Peter, Derek's uncle. He felt Derek's hands leave his body before Peter even spoke, and frivolously looked to the side, his face flushing redder than a tomato.

Stiles and Derek watched as a young, blonde girl in an oversized male dress shirt exited Peter's room, a tired smile on her face. She eyed Derek and Stiles for a moment, her eyes filling with panic and embarrassment.

"No, don't worry, Monica. This is my nephew, Derek, and his… friend." Peter's lips cruelly twisted into a smile towards the end of the sentence, a mocking glare shooting at Stiles.

Stiles scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact with Derek. "I should go."

Derek turned his head, looking at him. Stiles could almost feel his discomfort and disappointment, although they were no longer locked in their previous trance.

"No, please! I'm sure Derek would want you to stay." Peter snickered.

Stiles was already making his way out of their apartment before he could finish.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles ruffled his fingers through his hair and took in a deep breath, watching Scott furiously attack Allison's throat with his tongue. His mind wandered to the night before, at Derek. He kept picturing his tone, muscled body, and frowned slightly. What did he meant by "did he feel it too"? Feel what? It had been going through Stiles' mind the whole night, which caused him not to sleep. He had been researching mating season for wolves on the Internet, and yes, while it shared many similarities to what Scott and Derek were experiencing, there were many differences.

He had decided that today he was going to ask Scott about it, question him and hopefully get some answers, but that seemed unlikely as he was currently attacking Allison. He wondered if werewolves would have sex in public if they were severely sex deprived during mating season. Well, he knew Scott was quite the opposite, especially with all the detailed recompilations that Scott had told Stiles of his nights with Allison, including one in the woods, in a public bathroom and in the back of car.

Stiles tilted his head up to find Scott walking towards him, a huge, goofy grin on his face.

"Did you have fun eating face with Allison?"

Scott rolled his eyes and let out a hoarse laugh.

"Obviously," he snickered.

Stiles rolled his eyes and took a big bite out of his slice of pizza, chewing thoughtfully.

"Who pissed in your cereal this morning?" Scott asked him, setting down his tray at the table and swinging his leg over the bench to take a seat.

"No one pissed in my cereal. I asked you to meet me here half an hour ago, Scott, remember? I asked to talk with you."

Scott thought pensively for a moment, sipping from his water bottle and then set it down. "Oh, yeah. Sorry."

Stiles shrugged and then rolled his eyes a bit.

"Hey, what did Derek want to talk to you about? It was a little weird that he invited you over to his apartment and all." Scott asked.

Stiles cringed a bit and took in a deep breath. He was recalling Derek's toned body, his protruding abdominal muscles and the dark hair that surrounded his chest and his happy trail and his v-lines and, and, and… He licked his lips quickly and shook his head. Why was he thinking about Derek shirtless? The sensation of his knee pressed against the bulge in his pants filled his body and he shivered, looking back up at Scott, who was waiting expectantly.

"Oh, you know, just the mating season with the werewolves and stuff." He nodded, sipping on his juice box.

"Cool, what did you wanna talk about?"

Stiles scratched the back of his head, "Mating season."

"Didn't you get all the answers you needed from Derek?"

"Not exactly…" Stiles laughed nervously.

"Uh, okay, well, what do you want to know?" Scott asked, looking at him a little oddly, as if he knew that there was more to the story than Stiles was telling him.

"Is there some kind of mutual feeling that a werewolf and their 'mate', or whatever, is supposed to feel when they're, well, you know…"

Scott grinned sheepishly and shifted a bit uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah, actually. Typically, whatever one person is feeling, the other person is feeling. It's like, let's just say the reference wasn't sexual. If Allison was feeling really sad and I got really close to her, we would connect in a matter, with my werewolf hormone, and I would feel the sadness she is experiencing. She would feel that I'm worried for her and want to know why she's feeling that way, understand?"

Stiles nodded, but still slightly confused. Shouldn't he have felt the physical need that Derek was experiencing? Why didn't he? It was all very confusing.

"Does this work with, uh, two guys? Or two girls?"

Scott sipped on his water a bit and thought for a moment. "I think so. I don't see why it shouldn't. Considering what Derek told us, I would think so. He said that werewolves will mate with anything if the need is desperate enough."

"So that's all I was, a part of a desperate need…" It barely escaped his lips when he said it, and Scott barely picked up what he said.

"What?" Scott asked, furrowing his eyebrows together.

Stiles shrugged a bit, taking a bite of pizza. "What happens if the werewolf felt it and another person didn't?"

Scott blinked, nodding. "That would kind of suck for the werewolf. I don't really know about that, to be honest. I haven't experienced anything with anyone other than Allison, and to be honest, I don't plan to experience anything with anyone else except her. She's really great and amazing, and oh, the thing she can do with her mouth when she—"

He shook his head, and then loudly interrupted him. "Honestly, I don't want to hear about your sexual adventures with Allison. I was just curious how this whole mating season works, just in case you or Derek try to make an advance on me or something like that."

Scott grinned. "You should talk to Derek about it then."

"I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to," Stiles sighed.

School ended and Stiles had quickly driven home and slumped into his computer chair, typing profusely at his keyboard.

Mating season, wolves mating, mating season for wolves… The searches were endless. He knew that he was going to have to go see Derek for some real answers; the Web surely didn't know everything, especially about supernatural werewolves. Stiles really did not want to go though. He didn't want to face the awkward situation of meeting Derek face to face after he tried to come onto him because of his crazy sexual werewolf fantasies.

Stiles wanted to admit to himself that he was not attracted to Derek whatsoever, that there was nothing that pulled him towards him, but he could feel a spark there. He knew he was supposed to feel what Derek was feeling, the intense desire to mate with him, even if they were two males, which wasn't wrong to Stiles, it's just that he had always considered himself straight. So why wasn't he feeling this?

He was grateful he had total control of his emotions, so he could not be influenced into having sex or being seduced. He was totally sober, and even though he assumed that there was no physical relationship he wanted to commence with Derek, there was something. Something that made Stiles want to show up at his doorstep. But Stiles HATED confrontation, so of course this was out of the question.

Stiles groaned and got up to open the window, and turned to see that it was already open, and the cool breeze was blowing onto his face, which was red with excess heat. Interesting, he realized, he hadn't opened the window since he had gotten home, which he distinctly remembered was closed. He hadn't gotten up since he got home, so why, or better yet, how was it open?

"Hi Stiles."

A dark, familiar voice in which classically remembered hummed from his left. He turned to see a very handsome Derek sitting down in the rocking chair in the corner of his room.

He was just as coiffed as the night before, as if he had someone to impress. His stubble was shaven so it was nonexistent, and his hair was gelled back ever-slightly too much. He wore a dark burgundy sweater with black jeans and his signature boots, which Stiles scowled at.

"You better have not dragged any dirt into my room."

Derek grinned, slightly amused, and kicked his feet back to reveal the muddy sole of his boot, causing Stiles to roll his eyes uncomfortably, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Great. Thank you. I really appreciate it." He muttered sarcastically.

As usual, Derek remained silent. He was smiling, and his eyes wondered over to the computer screen, which was pulled up to a Wikipedia page on the mating of wolves.

"I was wondering when you were going to notice me. And come on, Wikipedia? You know, that's never accurate." He laughed, bemused.

Stiles scoffed, the accusation only making him even angrier. Stiles was anything but inaccurate. "Like you would know anything about research."

Derek shrugged, rocking in his chair a little more aggressively than before. "You're right, I was never great at it. So, why exactly are you researching the reproduction of wolves, Stiles?"

Here it was coming. Stiles felt the redness rise in his cheeks. He found himself staring at Derek's arms, which were ripped with muscles from fighting and possibly training. He imaged Derek lifting heavy weights, and shook the thought away.

"I was, well," he stuttered, looking off to the side to avoid the obvious eye contact from Derek, "I was doing research because I was curious," he paused again, "for Scott."

Derek raised an eyebrow, and then brought his arms up to cross them over his chest. "Why didn't he just come ask me about it?"

Stiles laughed nervously, shrugging his question off like it wasn't a big deal. "Oh, you know, I doubt Scott would want to talk about his sexual escapades with you. You know, it's kind of a best guy thing."

Derek relaxed a bit, nodding. "Sure, whatever you say."

There was a very awkward, very silent moment that passed between the two of them for a moment, causing Stiles to look around nervously as Derek stared very hard on Stiles.

"Why are you even here?" Stiles asked, accusation filling his tone, which he immediately regretted. "Did you want to talk about last night or something?"

As soon as that question slipped out of his mouth, he felt himself going red. Derek grinned, grabbing the arms of the rocking chair and lifting himself from them, so that he was to his feet. He towered over Stiles, making him feel puny and childlike. He didn't like that feeling, and straightened his back to confront it.

"What about last night?" He asked nonchalantly, like it was no big deal.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Oh please. Don't, 'what about last night' me. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Why are you even acting like this?"

"I can assure you, I don't know what you're talking about. Acting like what? I'm just acting like myself."

He clenched his jaw, his fists curling at his sides out of frustration. "Is it because Peter walked in? You suddenly had to play the ultra-straight card and now you're here to ignore the fact that you basically came onto me? Screw off, Derek."

Derek raised his eyebrow, letting out a soft laugh. "You're so cute when you're angry."

"I—" Stiles was going to angrily retort but caught himself listening to Derek's soft, scruffy voice.

He plopped down, dumbfound, on the side of his bed. He was so confused. Why was Derek even here? To piss him off? Because that's how he was feeling right now. Speaking of which, Derek knew exactly that he was angry. Was it because he was attracted to him? No. The thought had barely crossed Stiles' mind before but he didn't want to pursue the thought. Derek was anything but gay. He understood that the mating season suddenly caused all the werewolves to become pansexual, in which they were attracted to all genders and sexual orientations, but why would he be attracted to Stiles, out of all people?

"You think I'm cute?"

It was Derek's turn to feel uncomfortable. The feeling crossed his face for a split second, before he regained his very monotone face and straightened his posture, so he appeared even taller than him. Stiles suspected this was an alpha thing. Derek shifted uncomfortably where he was standing, and then looked at Stiles. His face became warmer, softer, in a sense. He realized Derek was looking at him amorously.

"In that younger, I-have-to-preach-that-I'm-straight-because-I'm-actually-gay kind of way." Derek smirked, taking a step closer towards Stiles.

Stiles face flushed bright red, and a look of panic swept over him. Gay? No, he was pretty sure he was straight. He had feelings for Lydia, he knew that. He had liked her for so long, but had shortly given up on her when he realized she was abnormally infatuated with Jackson. He had never thought he was gay for even a second, so then why was Derek suggesting he was? It was all mind boggling to him.

"I'm not gay!" Stiles shouted, then eyed the door, returning with a whisper, "I'm not gay."

Derek blew a breath of air out of his nose, causing his nostrils to flare. He seemed unimpressed by Stiles' subtle attempt to deny his comment.

"I think you're in denial," Derek said.

Stiles scoffed, looking around his room. "I think you're crazy. Why are you even here? Honestly, if my dad comes in—"

But Stiles was interrupted by a finger that came directly onto Stiles' lips. It was Derek's; hard and calloused, but his touch was softer than velvet. He looked at him, his pupils large and dark, filling up his eyes with amorous emotion. He lowered his finger softly, dragging it down his lip so Stiles' lip curled downwards, revealing the inner pink, wet skin of his mouth. He turned his head to the side, dismissing Derek's finger.

"You know why I'm here."

Derek took another step forwards, closing the space between the two. Stiles could feel his hot breath against his face, causing him to perspire out of nervousness. He bit his lower lip and looked up, catching Derek's wide-eyed gaze. Stiles lifted his head, looking up at Derek's, whose lips were pursed and searching, leaning forwards, closer and closer…

He planted his lips softly upon Stiles, soft, like butterflies. He could feel the eagerness in Derek's actions, the want, but the suppression of his emotions. Stiles took in a deep breath through his nose, and let it out against the top of Derek's mouth. He was kissing Derek. Oh my God, he was kissing Derek.

With utter realization and shock, Stiles leaned backwards. His eyes opened widely and he shook his head. He could feel the tears building up at the corner of his eyes. Why was he crying?

"What's wrong?" Derek leaned forwards again, bring up an arm.

Stiles sniffed angrily, glaring at Derek. "I don't know what kind of fantasy you believe in, but you need to take your stupid werewolf hormones out of my room, out of my house. I'm not gay and that so wasn't okay."

Stiles paused, taking in a deep breath before speaking again, this time, his tone firmer. "You need to leave."

A dark look swept over Derek's face, a somber anger that caused his fists to clench at his sides. He was suppressing his emotions, for Stiles, he realized.

"If that's what you wish," Derek nearly growled it in the back of his throat, then lifted his head, looking upon Stiles one last time.

Stiles pursed his lips softly, then looked towards the ground. Without a word, Derek made towards the window in which he entered Stiles room from. He watched Derek leave, watched his muscled arms grasp upon the ledge of the window and swinging himself out, silently, without another wish. When he hit the pavement with an audible thud and began to run away, Stiles shut his window softly.

He lifted his fingers to his lips, remembering the soft caress of Derek's lips against his own. There was something about the kiss that was so beautiful, something about it that made Stiles crave more, but he knew it was wrong. It was just Derek acting upon his lust-craving emotions.

He turned back to the window and inhaled deeply, fingers to his lips, to catch the yellow glare of two staring eyes across his driveway, before they disappeared into the darkness of the night.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, letting out a long yawn as he reached into his locker to pull out his books for the next period's class. He was absolutely exhausted; he hadn't gotten a stitch of sleep the night before. He had been up all night, thinking about Derek and the way he kissed him, the aggression of his entire body except for his supple kisses… It had been impossible for his mind to fall into a drift of unconsciousness, for it was reeling with thoughts, images and replays of the brief moment that he shared with Derek, minutes before.

His thoughts were interrupted by a fruity, peach-like smell and a wave of strawberry blonde hair. Lydia. He turned his head to the side and found her leaning against the locker next to his, popping her gum loudly with a smile.

"Hi Stiles. You don't look so good," she said, tilting her head to the side.

He shrugged softly, shutting his locker and turning away.

"Wait! I wanted to know if you wanted to come to my party tonight. Scott's going to be there, even Derek. I figured since he helped Scott become an alpha and all, and he's helped us so much..." Lydia paused, searching for a reaction from him.

"Why would I care if Derek comes?" he asked, suspicion raising in his tone.

Lydia pursed her lips with a devious smile and twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "I figured because you were spending so much time with him, researching the whole mating season—"

"What? How do you even know about that?" Stiles said, his eyes widening in alarm.

"Hello, I'm dating Aiden. He and Derek have always been close-ish."

Stiles pondered for a moment, looking to the side. Sure, it would definitely be fun. Lydia's parties were always filled with the best drinks, the best music, the hottest girls… He paused for a moment, cringing; but Derek would be there. He wasn't the most talkative of people, especially at parties, but Stiles knew that he would definitely be chatting him up.

He nodded, speaking smoothly, "Yeah, I'll see if I can make it."

She clasped her hands together, grinning wildly. "That's great! I'm so excited. I have to introduce you to this girl, Meghan. She's super single and super cute, and I think you two will get along just great!"

Stiles tilted his head to the side, partly disinterested, knowing Derek would be there, watching them, but as any other teenage boy, anxiousness surged through his body like intensified electricity.

"Cool, I'll see you tonight," Stiles smiled, nodding, and then turned around to head off to his next class.

Stiles walked up the steps of Lydia's extravagantly large house, nodding to the beat of the music that vibrated from all the way outside, shaking his bones. He could hear the techno music and screams of young adults from the inside, shouting familiar lyrics to a hit song that was quite popular. He grinned and walked up the steps, shifting the case of beer in his hand. This was definitely going to be Lydia's best parties.

He walked up to the door, and before he could raise a fist to knock, a drunken girl came stumbling outside, wearing a quite revealing outfit. Her makeup was smudged and she appeared to be laughing, which was quite ironic. Stiles raised an eyebrow and watched as who must had been her friend stumbled outside after her, calling her name. Yeah, Lydia's party had definitely started.

Stiles walked forwards, into her house, which had very refined and mod furniture, which he presumed would usually be spotless, but was now littered in ash trays and red party cups. He looked around, his eyes widened with excitement. There were people dancing and singing everywhere, drinking, chugging, making out, grinding and more. This was exactly Stiles' kind of party.

"Lydia?" he called, his voice so small and soft compared to the other raggedly-screaming teens.

He made his way through the crowd, towards the kitchen, where he raised an eyebrow to see three large beer kegs. So much for bringing some of his dad's beer. He shrugged, setting the case down onto the kitchen counter, and turned around. He found a pair of dark eyes, watching him from a distance. Stiles stopped, looking directly at Derek from across the room.

He was wearing a simple gray sweater and dark jeans and his arms were well-defined. It clung to his body, revealing the deep cut and outline of his muscles. Stiles watched him grin, sexy and mischievous; the regular Derek. He had a red cup in his hand, and his foot was tapping softly to the upbeat music. A voice came from beside him before he could even react.

"Stilesssssss!"

Stiles turned his head, good timing too, because Lydia was falling down into his arms. His eyes widened and he grabbed beneath her shoulders, so that he was awkwardly hugging her, but using enough of his muscular weight to hold her upright. She smelled like too much booze and she was perspiring too much for Stiles' comfort. Her red lipstick was a mess and her dark eye makeup as well. Her dress was too short and riding up and Stiles felt very uncomfortable.

"Hi Lydia. Um, maybe we should sit you down, or I should get you to Aiden or something…" He looked around the kitchen, searching for a familiar face, and definitely not Derek's.

"Psh, Ai-dan is such a lewsher. He got me sho mad. Doeshn't like when I'm drunk," Lydia slurred, her voice coming out unevenly, like she was thinking as she was talking, without a verbal filter.

"I couldn't imagine why," he rolled his eyes and began to half-carry, half-drag her towards the stairs, when a hand reached softly onto his shoulder.

"Stiles, right?"

He turned his head to find a beautiful, blonde girl, most likely his age. She was really tall, for a girl, anyways, but Stiles' remarked that it could have definitely been because of her seven or eight inch, faux-leather red heels. Her eyes were rimmed too darkly and her face was caked with makeup. Stiles definitely recognized her as someone Lydia would hang out with, she was certainly fashionable. He wondered if this was the girl Lydia was talking about at school.

"Yeah. May…" he started, biting his lower lip harshly as he realized he forgot her name.

She let out a softly giggle, slipping one of Lydia's arms around her shoulder, so that Stiles could do the same, as they began to make slow yet steady progress to helping her up towards her bedroom.

"Meghan, yeah," she grinned, "Interesting party, right?"

Stiles nodded, his eyebrows raising as he looked around slightly. "I guess you could call it that. I just got here."

Meghan lifted Lydia up to the last step, letting out a noise of frustration, following by a giggle that was quite flirty, causing Stiles' to sweat slightly as he hoisted Lydia up.

"Well, this is an interesting way for Lydia to introduce you," he looked down towards her, and she seemed to be slurring, trying to say something, but nearly falling asleep standing.

She laughed, "Yeah, definitely. She never gets this drunk, I think it's because she was fighting with Aiden or something."

Stiles shrugged, "I don't get girls."

"Oh, yeah, we're pretty complicated," she said.

There was a silence between them, but Meghan was the first to break it.

"After we get Lydia to bed, do you want to get a drink with me in the kitchen?" She smiled.

Stiles hesitated, thinking about Derek. He definitely needed to find him and talk to him. He didn't know why; Derek was the one who walked out willingly that night. He didn't even know where he stood with Derek, not that he considered him anything more than a friend, if even that. It was all so weird and different for Stiles. He had caught himself thinking about Derek as more than a friend so many times before, even as a romantic interest, but he could never see himself committing to a relationship or whatever Derek wanted. He shrugged the thoughts off as they dragged Lydia the rest of the way, her heels falling off as her heels dragged against the wooden floors towards her bedroom.

They opened to the door to find Aiden, sitting there, a girl hoisted onto his lap, kissing him in a deep and intense embrace. Lydia lifted her head drunkenly, sobbing loudly as she saw the two in front of them. She broke free from Meghan and Stiles' grasp, walking forwards towards the dark-haired beauty sitting on his lap, who looked up innocently towards her. Lydia's fist curled and she launched it forwards, directly in the jaw of the girl. She let out a shout and launched for Lydia, but her arm was grabbed by Aiden, who held her back as Meghan grabbed at Lydia, who was trying to make for another punch at the girl.

"Lydia! Calm down! Lydia, listen to me. She's not worth it, she's not. Neither is he," Meghan said, holding her back.

Stiles' eyes widened, as he stared towards his crying, red-headed friend. He took a step towards Aiden, who was trying to make it up to the dark-haired girl by stuttering and explaining some false excuse. He tapped Aiden on the shoulder softly, who looked up, alarmed.

"You should probably go," he said, "and take her with you, before Lydia tries to punch her again."

Aiden got to his feet, his eyes filling with enticement and anger, so mutual that Stiles didn't know if Aiden was going to kiss him or punch him in the face. He walked forwards, so close to Stiles, who stood his ground, flinching slightly.

"And what are you going to do if I don't want to leave, and stay here?" He looked at Stiles, bearing his teeth slightly in a menacing way, although he hadn't turned, but his eyes were glowing.

"Aiden, your eyes…" Stiles whispered, looking back towards the girl he was with and Meghan, who were unaware about the existence of werewolves that everyone in their town seemed to try to desperately conceal. He understood why, but that still didn't change that it was abnormally difficult to keep the secret.

He pushed Stiles' shoulders back, a deep growl escaping his throat.

"Does it look like I care, Stilisky? Do you want to fight or something? Try and stand up for Lydia, that unloyal whore?"

Stiles ground his teeth together, taking a step forwards towards Aiden. "The only person who seems unloyal here is you, with whatever-her-name-is."

Aiden's eyes glowed even more now, and the tips of his fangs were beginning to emerge even more. He launched forwards, claws out towards Stiles, but a muscled, meaty hand grabbed at his throat, slamming him down to the ground with elegant force. Derek looked down towards Aiden, a deep, low growl escaping his throat.

"Leave," Derek spat, before releasing him aggressively, his head thudding against the floor again.

Derek stood upwards, brushing his hands against his jeans as if he was cleaning filth from them and looked towards the girl with the dark hair, Lydia, Meghan and Stiles. An eyebrow lifted and he looked towards Lydia, who was crying heavily into Meghan's shoulder.

"Get her to bed," he nodded, before turning to walk outwards.

Stiles looked towards Meghan, who nodded softly, then looked apologetically towards him. She retreated towards Lydia, who then watched as Aiden angrily stomped out of the room, teeth bared menacingly. Stiles lifted his hands to his face, rubbing softly. He was already tired and it was barely eight o'clock. He turned towards the doorway, leaving the girls alone, to find an empty hallway.

Stiles shrugged his shoulders in disappointment, turning towards the stairs. He could see Aiden disappearing down them, and decided to follow him; might as well get a drink.

He walked into the kitchen, where several college guys were chugging beer directly from one of the kegs, and Stiles cringed, moving around them to grab a cup and the hose of a nearly-empty beer keg. He filled his glass to the top, and then lifted it to his lips, taking a smooth sip. It tasted bitter and unpleasant but Stiles' wasn't about the taste; as long as he was the one getting drunk, it didn't matter.

Many beers and several shots later, Stiles was leaning back, his gaze faded and dazed. His head was spinning softly but it was the good kind that made you feel limitless and weightless. He had competed with some guy to try and chug a bottle of something that stung on the way down his throat, to which he had choked and almost gagged it all up. He really enjoyed Jell-O shots which tasted like fiery bubbles, if he could describe it in a sense.

At that moment, Stiles was having a difficult time standing up. He was leaning against the counter, watching two girls kiss feverishly and sensuously to the beat of the music. The kiss reminded him of Derek, and Stiles lifted his finger to his lips, which were fiery hot. Where was he? He hadn't seen him since the incident with Aiden and Lydia, which hadn't been too long before, had it?

It was difficult keeping track of time when you were drunk. Everything was either very slow or very fast, very clear or very blurry. There were a lot of things that Stiles had forgotten on his trip towards alcohol poisoning. He was about to pick up another glass, might as well, he thought, but someone grabbed his arm forcefully.

Stiles grinned, turning his head with a quick realizing that no one else's dark-haired, manly hands grabbed him with such sincerity but aggressiveness than Derek. He pressed himself against Derek's chest, head looking up with a drunken grin at him.

"I knew yew'd shtop me," he slurred, leaning his head softly against Derek's muscular shoulder.

Derek lifted an eyebrow, and then inhaled deeply at the corner of Stiles' mouth, picking up Stiles' alcohol-infested breath. He tilted his head back, rolling his eyes as Stiles' drunkenly lifted his arms, which seemed abnormally heavy to him, and then threw them over Derek's shoulder.

"Come on, let's get you outside."

He reached under Stiles' arm, wrapping a hand around his waist to steady him slightly, and walked him towards the backdoor to Lydia's house.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles leaned against Derek, his stomach swollen with too much alcohol and his head spinning. He was sweating and he felt like he was going to topple over at any second. Regardless, he knew that Derek would be there to catch him. He leaned his head against his shoulder like a wounded animal as he helped him out the back door, where a relatively quiet and dimly-lit backyard lay.

It was decorated very beautifully, much bigger than Stiles' own backyard. There was a large, Olympic-sized pool that was out of use because it was autumn and too chilly to swim. There was a large and beautifully, multi-colored garden, whose petals were starting to droop from the cold that prickled at its plumpness. There was a set of tables and chairs, for outdoor dining, and a small shed, presumably used for storing pool equipment and such.

"Its'h sho' cold outside," Stiles slurred, smiling drunkenly up towards Derek, who shrugged his shoulders and half-carried, half-dragged Stiles towards the shed.

"Where're we going?" He asked, looking around, but his vision was so blurred and he turned his head so quickly that he felt his stomach heave in his throat, so he swallowed harshly.

Derek placed his hands on the small of his back, taking in a deep breath, "I guess you can sit in the shed for a bit. It's quieter there and I didn't want to bring you to another one of Lydia's family member's bedroom."

Stiles let out a giggle, and swerved around the corner of the pool, causing Derek to grab him, pulling him tightly against him. Derek's nostrils flared angrily as he inhaled the acrid sent of the alcohol that caused him to become almost nauseated. His lips pressed into a firm, white line, and he looked down disapprovingly at Stiles.

"Why did you get drunk?"

Stiles shrugged, "I don'tshknow. You left so fasht the other night…"

"I thought you told me that you didn't want me to be anywhere near you."

Stiles shook his head, "I never shaid that. I jusht wanted you to leave… Only for that night."

Derek rolled his eyes. "I can barely understand you."

Stiles grinned and a few more hearty steps before nearly landing face-first into the pavement right before the shed, but Derek's hands were on him faster than possible. He let his head lean against his shoulder, allowing him to inhale his pure masculinity, while a firm, muscular arm draped around his body, holding him upright. His hand secured around the door of the shed and gave it a good pull, but it was happily unlocked. It was dim inside, and Derek heaved, tugged and helped Stiles drag into the shed. Derek's hands searched for a light switch on the wall, flicking it forwards. It illuminated a single light bulb, allowing for the outlines of their bodies and faces to glitter under the dim lighting, but the rest of their features were unclear.

The shed was only a few meters large across and upwards. There was a small couch with a shaggy carpet on the floor, a cooler, a bookshelf that was filled with pool material and many life preservers, pool noodles, surfboards, etc. It smelled like chlorine, sunblock and salt, and for some reason, Stiles found the scent of summer somewhat comforting.

Derek helped him sit down onto the couch, which he leaned his head back against, so that he was looking upwards at the light bulb, clearly illuminating all of his features. He stared at Stiles; his lips pursed softly, and sat down at the other end of the couch, so they weren't even remotely touching.

"Why do I put up with you, Stiles?" Derek asked silently.

"Becaush'e you lurv' me," he said softly, his head turning so he could look at him.

He rolled his eyes with a huff of breath, and sat up, starting towards the cooler. He opened it to find several cans of soft drinks, probably dull and no longer fizzy, beers, a bottle of something that looked expensive, and some water bottles. Derek settled for water. He grabbed two bottles and shifted his weight so he held them under his arm, then shut the cooler softly.

He turned around to find Stiles' shirt at his chin, tons of white material clumped there, so it was pulled to reveal his abdomen and chest. Derek gaped for a moment, staring upon his fleshy chest. His chest was broad, not in the muscled sense like Derek, but soft, like baby skin. He was completely hairless on his chest, and he had faint outlines of what can be future defined lines from over-worked muscle. His nipples were pink and hard from the cool air that washed over them from the cooler. Derek bit his lower lip softly, turning away.

There was a pulse that was rushing through his body, so intense that he dropped the water bottles, his nails protruding into the flesh of his palms. He clenched his teeth tightly together, grinding them so toughly that he could felt a pang of intense, radiating pain in his jaw.

"Stiles," it barely came out as a whisper, "you need to lower your shirt."

He tilted his head up, letting out a sophisticated laugh, for a drunk teenage boy, "Having ishues, Dereksh?"

Derek took in a deep breath, turning back towards him. His shirt was pulled over his head and his body was glistening under the dim light. His shoulder bones stuck out, his arms, although small, beautiful crafted to fit the shape of his body. His jeans were riding low, so just a thin band of gray boxers were revealed, a small amount of muscular definition on his lower abdomen, probably leading down to something pleasant…

Derek grabbed his head in his hands, biting down onto the skin on his hands, so he pierced through the skin, but no matter how much pain he tried to remotely cause himself, his skin healed quicker than ever and an intense feeling of lust rushed through his body.

"Stiles, go."

` Stiles got to his feet drunkenly, letting out a gurgling laugh. Derek raised his hands above his face, as if he was protecting himself from a swing. He tried to block them over his mouth, to mask the irresistible scent of Stiles' skin, which he wanted to lay himself upon and kiss, to shove against things and force… Derek let out a low wail of horror, shaking his head. He didn't want to hurt Stiles, he didn't, but there was a caged animal within him who craved lacking sex.

Stiles moved, tumbling and tripping, falling upon Derek, who caught him in his arms, taking in a deep breath. He stared down upon Stiles, who looked up, his mouth pursed. Derek's lips twitched ferociously and he took in a deep breath.

"Kish me, Derek…" he whispered.

Derek shook his head, cocking his neck backwards and let out a low pant towards the ceiling. He felt Stiles' hands lifted over his shoulders, finding their way to his neck, where they stroked softly, fingers like small insects moving across his skin, inspecting and slowly rubbing. They were really warm, which caused an intense feeling to surge in his pants, causing him to bite through a piece of skin on his lip.

"I can't," he growled.

Stiles eyes widened, wide, like a pleading child, "Why nosh't?"

"Not now… Not yet, it's not right…" Derek said nervously, his eyes darting towards the walls of the room, which seemed almost to be closing upon them.

Derek had so desperately wanted Stiles from the beginning. The way he moved, his nervous laughter, his brains, his gawkiness, his vulnerability, his possible virginity… Everything about Stiles enticed him. He never really understood it. It was way before this mating season started, for that, he knew. He never considered himself gay; really, there was just something about Stiles that he liked, in which he had never liked in another man, or in Stiles' case, boy.

But now? Derek felt like he was being forced into it. He felt like he was out of control, and he knew that if he let himself ravage and take control of Stiles' body in such a vulnerable position, he could risk hurting him. He did not know what he was capable of during mating season, but he heard of horrible tragedies of young werewolves raping their uneager girlfriends, who pleaded and screamed for them not to.

He couldn't live with himself if he hurt Stiles. Stiles would never talk to him again. He understood that Stiles wanted him now, but he didn't the night before, and would he want to after this night? It could have just been the alcohol talking, for all he knew.

"Pleash," Stiles whispered, kissing Derek softly upon his jaw, where his skin swelled and pulsed with an impulsion so intense to mate, he thought he would explode in his pants right there.

"I just don't want to hurt you… Stiles, I don't know what I'm capable of during mating season," he said, watching with disappointment at the annoyance in Stiles' eyes and sighed, "It could just be the alcohol talking in you. You didn't want me yesterday, and you might not want me tomorrow. I'm sorry."

He shrugged Stiles off softly, who slumped down, sitting with bottom on the floor, his legs tucked underneath them and his shoulders slumped, so they touched the back of the couch. He let out a long sigh and rolled his eyes softly.

"To be continued," Stiles yawned, his eyes fluttering closed.

Derek smiled sincerely, looking down upon Stiles. He was curled on the shaggy carpet, on the floor, like a small cat, snoring softly. He was shivering, probably from the cold, and he moved in his sleep. Derek wondered if he was having a nightmare.

He reached down, slow and careful not to wake him, and wrapped his arms beneath his body. He lifted him up in his muscular arms, admiring the lightness of his body, and softly sat him down onto the couch. He shifted softly, whispering Derek's name in his sleep, which caused Derek's eyes to go wide with affection, and he let out a soft sigh. He picked up the quilt that was hanging on the back of the couch and wrapped it around Stiles body softly.

After that, he took a step backwards, staring at Stiles, who was curled on the couch, an old, dusty quilt tied around him to keep him warm. Derek desperately wished he could lay down besides Stiles, without wanting to take him within his arms and have ravenously hungry sex with him. He just wanted to watch over him, to take care of him, to keep him warm, but he knew that wasn't possible now, not during mating season.

Derek sat down at the base of the couch, on the ground, so his head was close to Stiles, but facing away from him. He would watch over Stiles, that's what he would do. He would keep him safe, like a guard dog… Yeah, a guard dog… Derek drifted into sleep, thoughts of Stiles rushing through his mind before he passed out.


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles woke up with a panicked gasp, as he sat upwards. He was sitting in the same, slightly familiar shed as he was last night. His head pounded and he felt a wave of nausea overcome him. He turned to the side of the couch, and let vomit project from the base of his throat, the smell filling the den. He cringed and stared at the mess that he made and the heavy stench of Grey Goose vodka that filled the room. Stiles shut his eyes tightly, then took in a deep breath of air, nearly gagging, and stood up.

The shed looked the same as it did last night, from what he recalled, which he didn't recall much. He could remember being here, he thought Derek was there for a moment, but then he wasn't… Either way, he was alone now.

He could see the dim light passing through the cracks of the door and walked towards it, wrapping his hand around the doorknob and pulling. Brilliant light rushed through, towards the irises of Stiles' eyes, and he cringed, lifting his hand irritably to cover his face. It was broad daylight, probably the afternoon, Stiles thought. There were cups, bottles, garbage and passed out teens that littered the lawn, causing an overall mess. Some people had stayed the night, Stiles supposed, seeing them with large, black trash bags, picking up stray cups and joints that were tangled in the grass.

Stiles staggered towards the back door to Lydia's house, wondering exactly what happened last night. The last thing he clearly remembered was the fight between Aiden and Lydia, before he went to the kitchen, and everything went downhill from there. He didn't exactly remember how he got to the shed, but he knew that he had seen Derek. Or maybe he had imagined him… It was all very confusing, and all Stiles wanted was a really large breakfast, which is what his grumbling stomach told him. He also wondered what exactly went down last night with Derek.

Stiles made his way up the steps, tripping over a younger girl, who was splayed out on the floor, groaning. He wondered if she was in the same predicament Stiles had put himself in. He staggered through the backdoor, which led directly to the kitchen, which was much cleaner than the outside. He saw Lydia leaning against her expensive marble counter, in a plush, pink nightgown, her makeup smudged all down her face and a cup of coffee in her hand. Stiles wondered if she had been crying last night.

"Hey, Lydia," Stiles said with a smile, leaning against the counter besides her, looking towards the kettle sitting on the stove, the smell of coffee beans rising in the air around them.

"'Morning," she groaned, beckoning him to grab a cup from the cupboard above his head.

He smiled, reaching upwards and grabbing one, then pouring himself a cup. He decided no sugar; he could barely keep his eyes open. He walked slowly to the fridge, hesitantly. He felt like he would screw everything up. Lydia's house was almost too sterile to touch anything. Regardless, he found the milk carton and poured a centimeter into his cup, before stirring it with his pinky finger and turning back to Lydia.

"Sleep well?" he asked, then clamped his mouth shut, remembering of the scene that happened last night.

She took in a deep breath, and Stiles watched as the tears began to form at the corner of her eyes. Her breaths became deeper and he watched Lydia try, desperately not to cry. Stiles frowned; taking a step forwards, and wrapped his arms around her shoulders, in an awkward, half-hug, trying not to spill the coffee in both of their hands.

"Hey, it's okay. Aiden's just being a jerk," Stiles cooed into her ears, trying his best to comfort her.

Lydia shook her head, a shaky sob escaping her lips. "No, I don't think it will. Why would he do that, Stiles? Am I not good enough for him?"

"No, Lydia, of course you are—" Stiles started, but was interrupted by a deep, masculine voice.

"Is everything alright?"

Lydia and Stiles both tilted their head up to Derek, who had a garbage bag, filled nearly to the top with empty bottles and red cups. He had changed, surprisingly, and Stiles wondered if he had borrowed clothes or came back to help clean up. Either way, he looked good. He was sporting a red and blue flannel shirt with blue jeans and his signature boots. He kind of looked like a sexy lumberjack, pondered Stiles.

Stiles pulled back softly, staring sincerely at Lydia, who lifted her hands to her face, softly brushing the tears from her eyes, smudging her dark-rimmed makeup even more. She lifted her coffee shakily to her lips and too in a deep breath, before downing half of it.

"She'll be okay," Stiles smiled, looking towards Derek with a smile.

It was Lydia's voice that came next. "It was really nice of you to stay, Derek. I really appreciate everything you and everyone else is doing. I couldn't have cleaned up all of this on my own without my parents finding out. Thank you."

Derek shrugged, smiling softly. "No problem."

There was a short pause, before Stiles broke the silence.

"I'm so hungry."

Derek's eyes lightened up. "Do you want to go for breakfast?"

Stiles hesitated for a moment, then remembered the pang of pain that his stomach had, the emptiness causing him to become slightly queasy. It was just breakfast, right? It's not like he was taking him back to his apartment to have dirty sex on the couch, or something, but then again, he never knew with Derek. He supposed it couldn't hurt, plus, Lydia's house was making him slightly uncomfortable.

"Sure. Do you want to come, Lydia?" Stiles said, smiling softly at a sighing Lydia, who looked dramatically out her kitchen window into her trash-littered backyard.

"No, it's fine. I'm going to clean up and get started on helping clean up. Bring me home some leftovers," she smiled sadly towards them, and then turned to go upstairs.

"Alright. Ready?" Derek asked, looking towards Stiles.

Stiles nodded, and the two set off towards the front door, where Derek's black car awaited.

Their ride was tense. Stiles had a difficulty not twitching, confused and conflicted about his emotions throughout the whole ride. Derek didn't exactly enjoy Hits FM or any other sort of music station, so the ride was mostly quiet, except for the dull roar of his engine, and the tense breathing of Stiles. His palms were sweating and he refused to look at Derek, but he found him looking upon him many times, from his peripheral vision. He wasn't sure where they were going or what he was even doing with him or better yet, what had happened last night.

Stiles cleared his throat, his voice uneven and nervous. "Where are we going?"

"My apartment."

Stiles' eyes widened softly. For some reason, he didn't think that he would bring him back there so soon, not after what happened with last time, especially with Peter.

"Is something wrong?" Derek asked.

Stiles shook his head softly. "No, I just thought we were going to eat at a breakfast place or something…"

"No, I thought I could make you breakfast, but if that's what you want, I can turn the car around."

"No!" Stiles stopped, realizing his voice was slightly too loud, "No. It's fine. I'm sure you're a great cook."

A smile grin rose in the corner of Derek's lips, and Stiles' glanced over for the first time through the whole car ride, catching a glimpse of it before it disappeared off his handsomely chiseled face.

They pulled to the front of the red-bricked apartment building and climbed the stairs in silence, rising towards his apartment. He pulled open the large iron door and offered Stiles to step inside, which he did, cautiously.

It was the same as he remembered; minimalist, rugged. It was exactly what you imagined Derek would live in. There were three different rooms that were closed off. One a bathroom, one Peter's room, and one Derek's. To the far right was a sturdy, well-built kitchen, which looked completely unused. There was a few bar stools, and Stiles smiled, walking over towards one. Derek followed after him.

"What would you like to eat?" Derek asked, his voice soft, testing.

Stiles hesitated. "Toast and eggs, if you have that."

"Eggs are my specialty," Derek grinned, reaching underneath his counter for some plates, a pan and then heading towards the fridge.

Stiles sat down onto the bar stool, spinning nervously in his seat. He had willingly followed Derek here, he knew that, but he felt so abnormally nervous for some reason. He could feel himself sweating and he took in deep, steady breaths. He felt like he was on the edge of an anxiety attack.

"Did you sleep well last night?" asked Derek.

Stiles felt his face become really hot, and turned around, back to facing Derek. He found Derek perched in front of him, placing the buttered pan down onto the stove in front of him, behind the bar.

"Yeah. I did, but about that…" He paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts together.

Derek raised an eyebrow, then popped pieces of bread into the toaster, looking back at up at Stiles curiously.

"What exactly… um… happened? Like, last night."

He flinched, pausing softly as he reached for the eggs. Derek's shoulders seemed to sigh, partly from disappointment, partly from relief. He kept his back facing Stiles, silent for a moment as he cracked the eggs into the buttered pan.

"You were really drunk, and I…" He paused.

Stiles eyes widened, anger rising in him. "What the hell did you do?"

Derek spun around, his eyes glowing in Stiles' direction, "What the hell do you think I did, Stiles? Fucking hell, all I did was put you to bed. You were drunk out of your mind and I thought you were going to pass out, so I brought you to the shed, I figured you would sleep better there. Maybe I'll just leave you on the floor next time," the growl in his throat was too obvious to be missed, and it caused Stiles to shrink back in his seat slightly, his face flushed red with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, Derek… If I knew, I wouldn't have questioned. I just figured because last time… I wasn't… I don't…" Stiles shook his head, sighing as his words became jumbled, and he placed his head in his hands.

The timer for the toast ringed, and Derek slowly moved with way towards the toast, grabbing them hastily and setting them down on the plate. He set to work, buttering them evenly, creating a thin, creamy layer of yellow liquid, gleaming across its white surface. Stiles mouth watered as he stared towards the toast, and licked his lips quickly.

"It's okay. I understand. I shouldn't have been so forwards. I want to blame it on this mating season, but I feel like I can't. I can control it. In the beginning, I couldn't, but I think now that I've been spending so much time around you and I'm so…" Derek stopped, holding his breath in his throat.

"So what?" Stiles asked.

There was a long silence before Derek turned, bringing the two plates of toast towards Stiles and talking quickly, nonchalantly.

"I think because I'm so attracted to you, I have actually adjusted. I don't know if it's the same with Scott, from what I've heard, it isn't, but I'm much more experienced with control than he is, plus I am older," he looked up at Stiles, eyes wide with affection.

"You're attracted to me?" Stiles whispered, perplexed in the large, dark pupils of Derek's cool and harsh eyes.

Derek grinned, leaning across the counter, so he was closer than ever to Stiles. His lips barely brushed against his, his breath hot on his face. "I thought you realized already."


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles' voice was caught in his throat, his cheeks flushing crimson with color. He took in a deep breath and stared off to the side. He knew Derek was attracted to him, which was an obvious. He remembered when Derek had pushed him against the wall, the way his coarse hands scattered over his body, his lips, hot and plump, pressed against his own…

He swallowed harshly, his lips only centimeters away from Derek's. He could feel his breath, warm and masculine against his face. He could see his eyes piercing into his, pupils dilating and expanding with an intense lust that warmed Stiles' body with embarrassment and what he realized was a hint of arousal. Derek looked at him, almost pleading, begging for a soft kiss to be planted upon his own lips. He wanted it, Stiles knew. He realized maybe he wanted it to, but there was something that was so wrong about it, something that just didn't seem right…

Stiles lowered his head softly, looking down at the plate before him.

"I need a knife," he realized, whispering.

Derek looked at him, but Stiles could not recognize the emotions that he was feeling. He didn't want to know. He just wanted to eat breakfast and get some more sleep.

A harsh noise escaped from Derek's lips. It was a cross between a growl and a pant, something that was borderline animal that was caught in his throat and made him appear more menacing than Stiles knew he actually was. He looked up, startled, to find Derek's skin bristling, and his teeth slightly barred.

"How much longer, Stiles? I'm sick of the mind games. First, you're absolutely against it, then you're intrigued and want it, then you don't. Shit, make up your mind. I can't take your constant switching of moods," he clenched the edge of the table, his nails sprouting longer and pointier, carving into the surface of the marble counter.

Stiles blinked, wandering up from his plate, and took in a deep breath. He was frozen, sitting upon the stool with a shameful look on his face. It was true, he had been conflicted about his emotions, but what had been so wrong about that? He was a high school teenager, straight, from what he first knew, and now? He didn't know what to make of it.

Derek's harsh words interrupted him, causing Stiles to look upwards, a feeling of humiliation rushing over him.

"You can't just do that, Derek. You forced yourself upon me when I thought I was completely straight. I always thought I was straight. It's very confusing, you know that? I don't have some werewolf excuse to have sex with guys. I'm completely human," he paused, letting his hands wander over his face out of frustration, "You can't be mad at me because I'm trying to figure things out."

He looked to the side, Stiles eyeing him peculiarly as he waited for his answer, which came out as a rushed sigh.

Stiles watched as his claws retracted and his face calmed, and he took his hands off of the marble counter, allowing them to drop at his sides.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me… It's just that, when I'm with you, things are so different… The craving is beyond anything I have ever experienced, even with other people. I feel like… I feel like I can _feel _what you are experiencing. I understand your emotions and it makes me only more confused, because I understand you want me, but you're holding back," Derek said, crossing over his arms over his chest.

Stiles' eyebrows pressed together, and he let out a sigh, "I just need to figure things out."

Derek smiled, sincerely, leaning forwards upon the counter again, "What if we talked to someone about this?"

"What do you mean?" Stiles asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, mischief rising upon his face. It was that subtle smirk that Stiles knew when he was up to no good that made him nervous, on the edge.

"We should talk to someone who knows more about this. Someone who can educate us, maybe give us some insight on what's happening."

Stiles' eyes widened, and a look of horror came upon him. "We're not telling anyone."

"You're so anti-gay, Stiles, but you're definitely not straight; I don't get it," he rolled his eyes, "We won't tell anyone anything about the kiss. I was just thinking we could talk to Dr. Deaton about this all. He's quite skilled with anything that comes to the supernatural."

Stiles pondered for a moment. He realized that Dr. Deaton always proposed good suggestions and had a varied and wide-spread knowledge upon werewolves and would probably know something about this mating season. It didn't seem like such a bad idea to him.

"Sure, sounds like a good idea. Just as long as you don't say anything… You know."

Derek grinned, and leaned forwards, so his body was spread across the counter. His lips pursed forwards and he smiled as he kissed Stiles, just a peck, firmly yet with great delicateness, onto his reddened cheek.

"Finish your breakfast and get in your car."

They drove to the veterinarian clinic, which Stiles calmly remembered was Scott's original employment. He stopped the car in the small parking lot and looked towards Derek, lowering the volume with a smile. Derek returned a subtle grin and the two got out of the car together.

Once they were inside, Stiles began to peer around curiously at the empty desk, where a bell sat. He rang it twice, then became rather annoyed and peered further into the clinic, around a hallway that lead towards the back, where he assumed was where the animals were kept.

"Hello, is anyone there?" he asked into the subliminal silence that filled up the clinic.

He turned back towards Derek, who was already moving with calm and calculated motions towards the back of the room, where he could hear a commotion coming from. His eyebrows pressed together and he moved forwards, towards a door that seemed to be in accordance to a closet.

His hand wrapped around it and he tugged backwards sharply, opening it wide.

Stiles' eyes widened with embarrassment and amazement as he saw a shirtless Scott reaching up a messy-haired Allison's top, kissing wildly. Derek stifled a laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his hand to supress his grin.

Scott looked upwards, his eyes widened, and stood upwards, holding Allison in his arms, almost as if she was a human shield to hide his naked chest. She looked backwards and cursed under the breath, smacking Scott on the arm and tugging down her shirt. She scowled at him and he grinned apologetically, looking to the floor for his shirt.

"Well, we should get going…" Stiles said, his ace red and hot.

"Yeah, you should," Allison groaned, picking up her jacket from the floor and throwing it over her shoulders, avoiding eye contact with all of them.

"You left the door unlocked," Derek said, a smile plastered on his face, but his tone even and monotone.

Allison turned towards Scott, who was slipping his shirt over his head, and punched him playfully in the side, causing him to move backwards, grinning.

"You idiot! You told me you locked it!" she cussed at him more, trying to pry himself from his arm as he wrapped them in a tight embrace around her.

He kissed her all over her face, smiling into her right cheek. "I didn't have time; I couldn't keep my hands off of you."

Stiles shook his head, looking back at the two who kissed softly at each other's mouths and grabbed at each other's waists and shoulders. He could feel the longing to grab Derek's body and do the same, but settled for a deep intake of a sigh and an interesting glance from Derek, before he stared back at the young couple.

"Guys— guys! Come on, we've witnessed enough of this. Go home, man. A closet, come on? That's gross. Use your room."

Scott shrugged, throwing his jacket, "Couldn't. My mom was home."

Stiles threw his hands up in the air, scowling madly. "Whatever! Look, we were just looking for Dr. Deaton, and we stumbled upon this…"

He looked back towards Derek, whose pupils were so wide, he felt uncomfortable, almost jumping out of his skin.

Scott looked towards him and raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

Derek took a step forwards, planting his feet besides Stiles and wrapping a hand around his waist. Stiles felt his cheeks go bright red and he began to perspire nervously, staring at his hands around his waist, back up to Derek's face, which was plastered perfectly even, a poker face, without expression.

Scott's eyebrows raised and he stared at Allison, who only stared back at them with the same expression, then grinned madly and swung her arms towards Derek and Stiles.

"Holy shit, you guys are so cute!" she squealed, commencing a long speech about how she always shipped the two of them and how adorable they were.

Stiles felt uncomfortable as he watched Scott watch him with uneven eyes, almost in shock. He looked downwards and took in a deep breath, wondering if he could turn invisible and fade from this very moment. He wondered if Scott was looking at him with disgust, if they were going to remain friends, if…

"I never thought you were gay," Scott said, more of a question than a statement.

"Neither did I."

"Oh," there was a long pause, "That's cool."

He felt a breath of relief escape his lips, and looked up at Derek, who smiled down at him, his grip tightening on his hips, almost as if his body radiated with the words "it's going to be okay".

For a moment, Stiles believed it was.


End file.
